Second Story Work
by EbonyOsmosis
Summary: Roof after roof, he runs for his life. Sully and young Nate.


Second Story Work

* * *

Nate's excitement is short lived, shattering like the easy silence of the museum when he hears footsteps and an accompanying annoyed sigh.

"Damn it, kid..."

He looks up in surprise to find the man from earlier, the one who'd caught him lifting the wallet. With him is that woman he was with, her easy gait not at all surprised. "Why Victor – look who it is," she drawls in a European accent, sweetly condescending and promising pain. "The filthy little stray that made off with your wallet," she remarks slyly, manicured eyebrows poised in an unamused expression.

Nate feels fear stir in him as the pair approach, a group of black clad men following behind like a pack of dogs. He turns to escape out the other door, but stops in dread to see more thugs closing in on him. He turns again, looking all around for escape routes, but where displays cases and tables are not standing, it is blocked by the foreboding figures.

"C'mon son, you haven't got a chance, just hand it over," the man in the tacky green shirt says, holding out his hand as if he actually expects Nate to relinquish his prize. Nate feels the urge to bolt as these strangers come closer, but he knows there are more men behind him, so all he can do is try to keep his breathing even as the woman snatches the golden disc from his hand. She passes it along to the man, she called him Victor, who holds onto it casually yet securely in two hands.

Now, she reaches out again, palm open, as if to say 'give it here.' Like he'll just give it up that easily. "Now – the ring," she says expectantly, that cold, unfeeling stare focused on him.

When Nate doesn't move, staring between the two, he sees something winding tighter within her. He doesn't let it show on his face, but Nate feels that sense of fear coiling tighter in his gut. What would she do to get that ring? Why the hell are these guys even after it? He almost flinches when she lashes out and grabs his wrist, jerking it up to reveal his fisted hand. But instead of backing away or flinching, he keeps that calm, unafraid poker face as his fingers open with a casual wave. "What ring?" he asks coolly, the smile remaining even as a chuckle starts to bubble in her throat.

She backs away just a few small steps, fluid and controlled, not at all affected by his little trick. Until she lashes out with a furious swing, the sound echoing sharply through the museum as her hand connects in a mighty slap.

For a second, Nate sees stars as he fights to keep his balance, vaguely hearing the man give a surprised and affronted admonishment of 'Katherine!' But that's the least of his concerns, the pain in his face is starting to subside, but he knows its going to be sore later. His fingers hover over still tender skin, wanting to cradle it but not yet able to touch the area. Damn that woman has a mean claw on her.

"Who do you think you are, boy?" she demands in a cold voice, stepping closer to him so that he can see her shiny black shoes. "You're nothing but a filthy, cast-off little _beggar_," she spits in disgust, making a flare of anger shoot up in Nate's chest to replace the fear. Who is this stranger to judge him? To call him trash like the dirt under her feet? "You're not fit to touch these objects," she sneers.

Nate thinks he tastes blood in his mouth, so as he stands up straight, he brushes a fist across his chin just to check. No blood, but he has a feeling that will change soon judging by the look in her eye. But he stands up regardless, staring right back at her with narrowed eyes and a challenge on his face. He gives nothing, ignoring the man in the green shirt because this she-devil in front of him is the snake with fangs here. So he squares his shoulders, faces her head on, and lifts his chin up defiantly.

Her lips twist into a sneer suddenly and the woman winds up for another strike, but the man intercepts her by grabbing her wrist. Nate feels pride swell in himself for the fact that he didn't flinch this time, but he does glance curiously at the man for stopping her. Why would he care about some kid who lifted his wallet?

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing? He's just a kid!" the man hisses, keeping his voice low.

But instead of finding out, Nate seizes the opportunity born from distraction and bolts. The woman's head whips back to look at him, pointing after Nate with one manicured claw. "Stop him!" she barks in a low snarl.

Nate stops just in time to avoid the two thugs in black suits as they rush him, feinting left but ducking under a display table at the last second. One of them slips as he attempts to grab the boy, but Nate is already out the other side and barreling for the door. He hears footsteps behind him as he runs, and glances back for only a fraction to see at least three men pursuing. He looks forward and focuses on escaping, heading up the staircase instead of down because the rooftops are his domain.

"Stop the boy!" someone shouts, another Brit by the sound of it. Who were these London thugs and their creepy ring leader?

"Holy crap!" he breathes in fear, almost stumbling as he hurries up the stairs, his worn sneakers slipping on the lush carpeting. He reaches the top of the stairwell, nearly running into the wall after glancing over his shoulder. But he just braces his hands and pushes off, seeing a large, most likely locked door loom in his sights. But there is a power box of some sort on the wall, and the window above is open like an invitation. Nate vaults and grabs onto the box, jumping up and hooking onto the edge of the window.

As he pulls himself through and into the next corridor, he hears someone shouting about breaking the door down, and his fear level goes up a little. He hears a heavy thud, and a second with the sound of that imposing door starting to splinter like plywood. A third smash and they've broken through, he can hear the ruined door bounce back against the wall. "Oh god," he breathes, barreling up the stairs into a dimly lit hallway.

"He's heading for the roof!"

They're right behind him in that narrow little staircase, making Nate's heart thump in fear and desperation as he bangs the door open at the top. A fence meets his sights, blocking his path, but his keen eyes take in the rusty hinges and the gap under the chained padlock. He makes a dive, squirming through the gate frantically as he hears footsteps behind him. Then a hand on his legs yanks him back, but he kicks furiously, aiming hopefully for the nuts. "Let me go!" he snarls, slipping through the grasp and earning a curse from one of the men.

As Nate scrambles to his feet, he takes just one glance over his shoulder and just one moment to get his bearings before vaulting onto the next roof, hearing the gate bang open behind him as they remain right on his heels. A window breaks somewhere as he picks his way quickly yet carefully across unsteady shingles, and suddenly there are two more ahead of him. He veers to a balcony. "Who the hell are these guys?" he wonders out loud, jumping from the balcony to a roof that is almost too far down to safely make.

But Nate lands upright, using the wall to catch his balance before running off again, feeling a pair of hands on him for just one sickening second before he slips away. The man curses at the missed catch, calling after him with a note of personal vendetta in his voice. "Come here you little bastard!" But Nate ignores him, turning another corner as a light flickers above him the setting sun. He spots a pile of rotting wood and a generator sitting against the wall, so he uses this a stepping stone to reach the next roof. He climbs onto another balcony and hops over some small walls, before making it onto the next roof.

"Enough of this, shoot him!"

He yelps suddenly as a few shingles give out under him, and he slips down just far enough to avoid a fatal bullet, but not enough to avoid the graze it leaves on his arm. He regains his footing, keeping low to aid his center of balance as he sprints across the roof. "Now they're shooting at me?" he exclaims in amazement.

He rounds a corner of the roof, a long drop to his right almost claiming him as he slips again on the loose shingles. Nate is unable to stop and think before he leaps onto a shabby looking awning hanging over the window. But he does have time to register the sound of the weakened metal giving way under his weight. So he jumps again, crossing three more badly kept awnings before reaching the safety of someone's outdoor patio. At least, safety in terms of stability. The shouts of the men following him do not promise any kind of reprieve, so he jumps onto yet another adjacent roof.

After passing through a cloud of steam during another jump, he catches the edge of an overhang but almost looses his grip out of shock when a window bursts open above him. "Gotcha!" One of the men jumps out and makes a quick strike with his foot, catching Nate's fingers in a punishing stomp. He yelps in pain and almost lets go, but a second voice joins the fray, one rough and gravelly voice that's starting to become familiar.

There is a scuffle above him, and Nate takes the chance to climb up. The man in the green shirt, Victor, has the goon in a chokehold. "Agh, beat it kid!" he barks roughly, spinning the man around to clock him square in the jaw. Nate scrambles across the overhang, hearing the sound of heavy punches behind him as he makes a dash for freedom. His mind again tries to figure out what the hell that guy is playing at, but he just takes the distraction and runs.

He scales another wall before making a leap for a sloped metal roof, his heart starting to pound in fear as he flails in mid air, because that does not look conducive to a safe landing or being chased. But he has no reason to fear the roof, because the storm drain gives out under his weight as he catches it, dropping down with a clatter and depositing him on another roof. He lands heavily, immediately sliding down towards the drop below as he tries to grab onto something. But the cheap red shingles just flake off under his searching hands.

But just as he reaches the edge, he sees an open window and his body works on instinct. He pushes out with his feet just as he clears the roof, propelling himself across the sickening drop and into the small balcony. The table under him smashes into pieces as he lands rather roughly, splinters digging into his hands as he shakily pushes himself up. Nate allows one glance over his shoulder, but his eyes widen and he scrambles away just in time to avoid the two men landing on him as they jump as well. He slips a little over the debris of the broken table, making his way through someone's kitchen as the men give chase once more. For a moment, his stomach growls loudly as he passes pots of food cooking on the stove. _Not now, _he tells himself with a smirk.

He passes the fridge on the way out the door and hears footsteps behind him, an idea clamoring for attention as he reaches out. The freezer door swings out behind him and catches one of them in the face with a good solid slam, buying him a few seconds leeway as he barrels down the hallway outside the kitchen. Nate finds himself suddenly in someone's living room, where a startled man moves to grab him. "'Scuse me, coming through!" he shouts playfully.

"¡Oye, salga aquí!" the man shouts angrily, but Nate dodges around him in a fluid sidestep before running into the next room.

"Sorry about that," he says to himself, vaulting over a bed and out the open window. He drops down onto a roof, rolling to cushion the fall and darting past rusty patio tables. He's not sure how much longer he can keep this up, he's taken one too many hard falls in this chase, but he pushes on. But suddenly, as he makes his way to a low wall, he catches a glimpse of that damn ugly green shirt on the next building over. Victor is still following, and Nate just catches him grabbing one of the suits and throwing the guy over the edge. But Nate looses sight of him again as he climbs up, passing lines of drying laundry as he runs as fast as his tiring legs can go.

Seeing the too large gap ahead of him only after he's made the leap to the next building, he grabs onto a street light just in time, using momentum to propel himself forward right away without sparing time to swing back first. Nate lets go on the high arc of his swing, plummeting towards a skylight while hoping it holds. He touches down in a crouch, the glass splitting loudly and transforming with a display of spider web cracks under his sneakers. He jumps away just in time for two men to land right behind him, who go right through the weakened glass with a shatter and shouts of pain.

"Whoa!" he breathes as he stumbles through a patio garden, bullets whizzing over his head and shouts coming behind him as he runs. "Close one," he adds, darting through planter boxes and potted plants without care as more bullets shoot by him, too close for comfort. He vaults to the next building, just barely catching the edge of the marble banister. The bullets are coming from all directions now, and he doesn't even know where to run to avoid them so he just keeps barreling forward, its all he can do.

But when one of the black suits jumps down to block his path, his body panics and without consulting his brain first, it hauls ass over the edge of the building without knowing what awaits him below. Luckily the roof is not too far down, but he still almost stumbles forward as his balance teeters with fatigue. A man suddenly grabs him from behind, startling Nate into whirling around and shoving the offender away with all his strength. The man goes over the roof with a shout, and Nate spares a millisecond to contemplate that he might have just killed someone before worrying about himself once more.

He turns to run, but the edge of the roof is all that separates him from a drop that is most likely too high to survive. Even if he lives through the fall, his legs will probably break on impact. So he turns to try a different route, but finds it blocked by a man emerging from a doorway in the shadows. "Look what we have here," the man drawls in a low voice, just as the quarry spots a glint of metal by his old sneakers.

Nate backs up, almost stumbling as he reaches down for the dropped gun and holding it up like a shield, pointed at the man in shaking hands. He removes one of his hands from the grip, trying to look more intimidating even as he shuffles back uncertainly. The man chuckles darkly and Nate stumbles back, his stomach lurching as his backside hits the roof.

"Hm hm, whoops. You alright?" the man asks in a false concern, continuing to walk forward as Nate backs further into his corner. "What are you shaking for?" he asks coolly, eyes unreadable behind those dark sunglasses. The gun is poised easily, years of experience murdering making him a second hand at this.

Nate is starting to consider breaking his legs on the way down, it would surely be preferable, and he knows the guy won't hesitate to kill a child in the end. He may be playing games now, a cat with a cornered mouse, but Nate knows the man will shoot in the end if he himself doesn't pull the trigger of the shaking gun or throw himself backwards to the street below. He takes a quick glance over his shoulder, trying to judge distance in that moment as he scoots back.

"Just, close your eyes," the man says as he steps closer. "This won't hurt a bit."

And Nate does close his eyes, if only to buy himself a few more precious seconds for his mind to work. He's about three stories up, which would be a painful landing but definitely survivable. Despite the height bringing his odds down in case of impact, that only means there is much more opportunity to grab onto something. Windows, balconies, storm drains, planter boxes. There are a multitude of chances for him. Because he has to be honest with himself, he can't pull the trigger. So his only hope is to make that leap of faith.

All of these calculations took a matter of scant seconds, and he uses one more to prepare to throw himself back. But he jumps in shock when the piercing crack of a gunshot cuts the tense silence. His eyes pop open in surprise, because he feels no pain so he's pretty sure he doesn't have a bullet in him. But he did not pull the trigger, so where had the sound come from? Nate looks up at the man in the black suit, unable to read his reaction right away because of the stupid sunglasses.

But the man's gun hand drops limply, a strangled gasp slipping past his slack mouth before his head lolls a little. Then his whole body teeters forward, falling with a heavy thump and revealing the figure that was standing a few feet away. The man again, Victor, stands with a blank expression before lowering his gun and approaching. He spares the dead man only a moment's glance, holstering the weapon at his side.

Nate adjusts his grip on the gun as he scoots back a little more. Suddenly he's ready to enact his jump-off-the-roof plan once more, because the man is approaching. Nate's not exactly sure why he has the gun pointed at the man who spent the last 15 minutes helping him- but the gun does not track his movements as he walks confidently over. Instead, Nate's weapon stays trained on the unmoving body of the man who would have killed him. Victor doesn't even try to pacify him, just walks over without a care and gently grabs Nate by one arm. "C'mon," he says gruffly, helping the boy stand.

One of his hands moves over the grip of the gun and easily slips it from Nate's weakened grasp. He tosses it to the side as hesitant blue eyes glance up at him from under furrowed eyebrows. "You're okay, kid," he assures easily. Those eyes flicker away, staring at the dead man for one more moment before breaking away. "Come on," the man says, wanting to allow the kid a moment to recover but knowing they don't have the luxury. "Let's get out of here before more of your friends show up."

While Nate would usually flinch away from the hands of any adult coming towards him, he allows himself to be guided by the heavy palm on his shoulder, his mind whirling. It was one thing and easy enough to stop the woman from striking him a second time. But why had this man gone to so much trouble after that? Tailing him across rooftops and taking out the thugs as he followed Nate- it just didn't add up. Why would he go through all that for a kid he didn't even know? What made him choose Nate over that woman he'd appeared so friendly with earlier?

All these questions spun about in his mind as they descended from the roof, all the way until Victor led him into a dim looking bar. He leaves Nate for a moment to go place an order at the bar counter. For a split second, Nate considers bolting while the man is distracted. He doesn't know what this guy is after, why he tried to defend him and why he didn't try to take the ring. That instinct to run is still clawing at him as he observes the bar for possible escape routes. But then, he pauses for a moment to think. If the man wanted to harm him, wouldn't he have done so? Wouldn't he have just let the man in black shoot him and be done with it?

Nate realizes that there is more to this story than meets the eye. While he is still cautious of this Victor Sullivan, he decides to wait and see how the whole thing plays out. He can at least stick around to see what the hell the man wants out of this arrangement. Because he knows the guy wants something.

The trick is figuring out what it is Sullivan wants and what Nate has just gotten himself into.

* * *

Yeah yeah, I copied the dialogue. But why would you change it?


End file.
